The Program

Chapter forty-one

The phone rang at six-thirty, jerking Tim from a deep sleep. He'd no sooner pressed the receiver to his ear than the marshal let loose with a string of Mediterranean expletives. After a few disoriented seconds, Tim caught up with his stream of discourse.

"This morning I find my niece – God bless her – zoned out on the couch, phone bleating in her hand and Betters's video in the VCR. She called in and signed up for the Next Fucking Generation Colloquium -put two grand on my wife's goddamn Visa."

Tim sank his teeth painfully into his lower lip; a chortle here could prove fatal. Beside him Dray shifted and groaned unhappily.

Tannino didn't pause long enough for Tim to respond. "Bring me something back, Rackley, however small, to get us on that fucking ranch. Once we're there, we're gonna go full bore on his ass."

Looking crisp and mean in her uniform, Dray stood in the driveway as Tim backed the Hummer out of the garage. The steam from her coffee mixed with her clouding breath to shroud her face. A furious knocking on the passenger window made him punch down on the brakes. Leah gestured emphatically at him, running around to the driver's side.

When Tim rolled down his window, she said, "I want to go. The mail goes into TD's cottage, and only Lilies, Protectors, and Stanley John are allowed in there. You can't get your hands on that stuff. You need me."

"It's not safe for you up there."

"You don't get to decide that for me. You said it was my choice. I trusted you."

"Leah -"

"No, wait a minute. Since I've been off the ranch, I've been mostly upset and scared. But you know what? I'm sick of it. And the more I think about it – him, everything – the more pissed off I get. Now I want to go back there. And you can't stop me."

In the rearview, Tim noted her taxi pulling away from the curb. "No," he said. "I can't."

"What about Will?" Dray asked.

"I left him and Mom a note explaining."

"A note," Dray said. "Swell."

The Hummer idled and shot exhaust. Leah appealed to him with earnest eyes.

"Get in," Tim said.

Leah fidgeted in her seat, her foot twisting around the back of her calf as if scratching an inextinguishable itch. They passed a long school bus filled with chanting students waving pennants – just another away game in paradise. Leah watched it recede into traffic. "Do you know what it's like? To leave something that means everything to you?"

His back pocket still felt empty without his badge. It had been presented to him on a Georgian dais at FLETC graduation, and he'd silently pledged to hold and honor it until it was sunk in Lucite and holding down the stubs of his pension checks.

The clouds broke furiously, unleashing torrents of rain. They fought through clots of traffic and minilagoons, moving from one freeway to another until they finally exited. Leah's silent discomfort grew more pronounced as they neared the Radisson.

She let out a terse little laugh, then stared bitterly at the dash. "When they make you smile all the time, you know what? You start to believe it."

Wet gusts buffeted the windshield. Tim turned right into the circular driveway. Up ahead, a familiar, disproportionate form cut a block from the gray downpour. As the Hummer crept near, ducked valets scurrying alongside it, Randall appeared – the large head, the swollen arms, the jagged mouth with spaced, glinting teeth, so much like a child's sketch.

He raised an arm in silent greeting, and they stepped out into the deluge.